Final goodbye

The final goodbye creeps sneakily sly

like a snake in the wilderness does

and stalks the edges of innocence

until it is time to strike.

Patient are snakes and final goodbyes

because the strike must be deadly true

to reach the unprotected core

when it is least expected.

Strike and I'm dead; I don’t exist

like an extraordinary mystical vision

seen and then lost in preposterous life

always present like traffic lights.

Now traffic lights can’t assimilate loss

or empathize with the deprived

so those who should proceed onward

stand immobilized on the line.

They don’t hold up traffic, oh, no. no. no,

because people like me and you and them

are plain and simply mystical visions
seen and then, of course, lost!